The Goggle Bob Blog

Tag Archives: looney tunes

Gaming has changed a lot over the years. Nowadays, if a game is released for multiple systems, it is almost always the exact same game across different platforms, give or take a random feature or frame rate. Skyrim has been released for… let me do the math here… 70,000 videogame systems, and, by and large, every version has been, ya know, Skyrim. If there were some variation in there, you better believe you’d see promotion for the brand new Skyrim Jr., Skyrim Babies, or Skyrim: Centaurs Among Us editions. You buy Skyrim, you get Skyrim, and whether your buddy has an Xbox or Playstation, you’re both talking about the same dragonborn at the end of the day.

Back in the 90’s, things were not so simple.

We consider them members of the same console generation, but the Sega Genesis and Super Nintendo videogame consoles were wildly different systems. For one thing, Super Nintendo had Chrono Trigger and Super Metroid, while Sega Genesis had Ecco the Dolphin. Ha ha! I’m joking, because I was primarily a Nintendo kid, and I absolutely will never get over those console wars. I lost good friends to that battle, and I’m not going to let young Jason’s sacrifices (he had a subscription to Sega Visions) be in vain. And why were there such console wars? Well, mostly because of advertising. But! Another significant factor was that a number of games for both systems were as different as their base consoles, so you could experience entirely different playstyles if you decided to pick up a title for Sega or Nintendo. Back then, even a humble Looney Tunes spin-off could be the spark that reignites the blaze of war.

Taz-Mania was always an odd duck. For reasons that I’m sure annoy tattoo artists to this very day, Taz the Tazmanian Devil became extremely popular in the early 90’s. This also roughly coincided with the rise of WB/Fox Kids animation domination, so, hot on the heels of Tiny Toons and just before the rise of Animaniacs, Taz got his own animated variety sitcom. This was… an odd choice. Taz was always popular for his general unleashed, unhinged, and non-verbal personality… so naturally they gave him a loving, perfectly normal nuclear family. Jean Tazmanian Devil is a dedicated housewife, and Hugh Tazmanian Devil is a Bing Crosby wannabe perfect father. Molly and Jake are archetypal siblings, and Dog the Turtle is a typical dog (who is a turtle). Basically, Warner Bros. Animation crafted an amusing farce where a feral beast is forced to live with a modern family that inexplicably and unconditionally loves the destructive eating machine. … And it suddenly becomes clear where my generation earned its absurdist sense of humor. Regardless, Taz was joined by a few other characters/shorts (because WB Animation seemed to assume that kids have the collective attention span of a particularly excited chihuahua), so even the main appeal of its chief character was lost for entire segments at a time. For a series that was ostensibly created to capitalize on Taz-mania (oh, I just got that), it sure took a weird route to get there.

But, like the Addams Family before it, it was considered a popular enough show to earn a videogame or two. The first release was Taz-Mania for the Sega Genesis. And, lo, it was good! As one might expect from the era, Taz-Mania was a 2-D platforming adventure featuring Taz questing after a giant egg, because eating things is funny. And Taz-Mania properly featured Taz’s excessive gluttony in other ways, too! Taz would devour anything he could fit in his giant maw, which included food, 1-ups, monsters, and even entire water bottles (he drank the water first, naturally). This even became an interesting gameplay wrinkle, as there were items like bombs and weed killer strewn about, and they could be used as items, but only if you made Taz resist devouring them outright. Fun fact: weed killer is not a balanced part of a tazmanian devil’s diet. Beyond that, this was a gorgeous, fairly basic 2-D platformer, and the goal was to jump on everything from here to the end of the stage. You could even use Taz’s whirly attack every once in a while… but it’s generally not recommended, as it will absolutely get you killed.

Which was kind of the problem: Taz-Mania was super hard.

With save states and other modern innovations, the scope of Taz-Mania is easy to see. However, back in the day, this was a pretty basic platformer for a few levels, and then a series of instant death traps that would banish the player back to Level 1 pretty quickly. In fact, you could easily point toward one single mid-level stage, a freaking a mine cart level, that is a wall-to-wall Taz slaughter. No devils have any hope to survive, and the mere concept of reaching later stages is nothing more than a pipedream. There are a few other sticking points (floating logs introducing perspective to a 2-D game is particularly cruel), but, short of rote memorization, there was no way Taz was going to make it past some terrible mines. Not that the end game is that exciting! But not knowing how Taz’s adventure ends (it’s a fight against a giant seagull, ‘natch) might convince a poor Genesis kid that a purchase is better than a rental. Well played, Sega, well played.

And then, a scant few months later, Sunsoft released its version of Taz-Mania on the Super Nintendo. It was dramatically easier, and, incidentally, boring as hell.

You will never be able to convince me that Taz-Mania (SNES) did not start as a Wily E. Coyote game that was randomly modified to be a Taz-Mania tie-in. This title plays vaguely like SNES Mario Kart, and takes full advantage of Mode 7 capabilities to place Taz on an endless stretch of highway where he must catch kiwis (the highly mobile birds, not the much easier to catch fruit). Every level contains an escalating number of kiwis, and there are few hazards (like buses and… mostly just buses) to keep Taz down. After catching the requisite kiwis, Taz falls asleep, the kiwis escape his gaping maw (that’s how digestion works, right?), and the whole thing starts again. Repeat for five acts (worlds) with three stages each. Throw in a few bonus stages where you can catch infinity kiwis for a score that impacts nothing, and you’re got the entire game.

And, in this case, that’s the clear problem: after playing a whole one stage, you’ve seen everything this title has to offer. Later stages seem to climb in difficulty only by adding incredibly unfair traps (arrows will spawn practically on top of Taz, and presumably you’re supposed to dodge them by using psychic powers), but it’s mostly moot anyway, as devouring practically anything (including your kiwi goals) refills your health. Like the endless stretch of highway to which Taz has been sentenced, the game is just an interminable slog of the initial stage repeated a solid fifteen times. Backgrounds change, sometimes you see the Road Runner, and occasionally you’ll earn a powerup that makes Taz move slightly faster, but other than that, it is tedium. It’s tremendously more beatable than its Genesis cousin, but even the first act makes it clear that there’s no future for this Taz. It’s the exact same plot across both games (Taz hungry), but there is exactly zero reason to progress through the SNES version.

So who wins? Guess it depends on your mood. SNES-Mania is basically an endless runner (almost literally), and is good, repetitive fun if you’re in the mood for such a thing (the sales on mobile games seem to indicate this is true of at least some people). On the other (brown, furry) hand, you’ve got Genesis-Mania, which is a creative, intricate platformer that requires endless memorization or a healthy glut of cheating. It’s (God help me) the Dark Souls of 90’s WB Animation Game Tie-ins. So, in this situation, it’s like comparing apples and oranges, and one could no more declare a winner than objectively determine that ducks are more suited for space travel than vegemite. In this situation, both systems have their own, personal Tazs, and that’s just fine.

Which is nice for Sega, because the SNES wins at everything else.

FGC #371 Taz-Mania (Sega Genesis) & Taz-Mania (SNES)

System: Sega Genesis for the platformer, SNES for the runnin’ of the Taz. The Genesis game was compromised and ported to Master System and Game Gear, too. Also, there was a Gameboy version that had nothing to do with anything.

Number of players: Single player across the board. The SNES version could easily have had a head-to-head kiwi catching contest, but noooooo.

Favorite Level (SG): It’s a shame that the final area of Genesis-Mania is so difficult to reach, as its “ancient ruins” aesthetic is great for the level design, and contains a number of gags that indicate Taz’s ancient ancestors were just… Taz. He’s perennial!

Favorite Level (SNES): There is no way to tell these stages apart, and I will not entertain notions of trying.

Let’s Talk Cartoons: Given the choice, I’d take Taz-Mania the Series over a number of its descendants, like Histeria!, Animaniacs, and a third one that I know I’m forgetting. Freakazoid is the best, but Taz’s general… Tazness fit the variety show format well. Also, I really enjoy orange juice, and no one understands when I make that Hugh reference anymore.

Did you know? Genesis-Mania contains a complete debug cheat, which allows for level skipping, invincibility, and instant health restoration. SNES-Mania simply contains a level select code. Welp, I know one place where the Genesis version excels.

Would I play again: SNES version isn’t happening again, as I’m not one for score-based games. Genesis version is a maybe, but only with the assistance of save states and such. Or… probably not ever, because there are better games available in both genres. Sorry, guess the Taz stays in Taz-Mania.

What’s next? Our next SNES/Genesis matchup is… Billy and the Clone-Osaurus! There’s a park full of dinosaurs, and I guess we’re trying to escape it for some reason! Please look forward to it!

Tiny Toon Adventures: Buster’s Hidden Treasure is a videogame based on the highly popular (with 90’s kids that watched Fox) series, Tiny Toon Adventures. While it would make perfect sense for this game to be fairly original, bad news, this is yet another fuzzy mascot Sonic-alike for the Sega Genesis. The NES got a couple of interesting platformers, the SNES got a TTA adaption that had no idea what it wanted to be (“Am I… playing football now?”), and the Genesis got a Sonic the Hedgehog wannabe. This is how the world works.

But, thanks to poor scheduling compliments of my daffy plucky robot, I managed to play this game between sessions of Sonic Mania. This does nothing for a Sonic-alike game, but it does give me an excuse to elucidate why Sonic Mania works without having to actually “review” that game. Hooray! So let’s all enjoy a quick list of things that absolutely do not work in Sonic-ish games.

Hit Points are the Enemy

To this very day, everyone claim’s Sonic’s one major innovation was speed. He’s gotta go fast, etc. etc. But the speed is a lie! Yes, it’s cool to run through loops and barrel along like you’re a living rolling coaster, but even in the best Sonic games, that barely lasts past the first level. Then we’ve got a host of lava rivers, watery labyrinths, and a maybe an airship or two. Want to know what happens when you try to run at top speed on a high altitude platform with no guardrails? Spoilers: it ends with your femur being found in another county.

The real innovation of Sonic is the one thing everyone takes for granted: rings. With just a single ring, Sonic is invincible! Or… at least he won’t die after a tap from a giant egg robot. And that makes all the difference! As long as you’ve got a ring (which is easily obtainable… anywhere), life is wonderful, and you can run around like an idiot with zero repercussions. It’s the joy of Sonic: just run and run and run, and if you hit an obstacle, no big deal, you’ll survive to run again. You only need worry when you’re down to zero rings, and, well, if you’ve let that happen, you probably did something wrong. Were you not moving fast enough? It was probably that.

Buster of Tiny Toon Adventures: Buster’s Hidden Treasure tries to emulate the Sonic “gotta go fast” formula, but with basic hit points. On one hand, yes, it would have been a little too obvious if Buster collected trails of “carrots” and had to maintain a single veggie to avoid death at all times, but… that would have been so much better. Buster has 3 HP, which means the game always flows like this:

You have full health, hooray, run around like a coked up rabbit.

You have lost a health point, not good, but survivability is still possible.

You have 1 HP remaining. Life is pain. Now please move as slow as possible, because one more hit means…

Death

Repeat

Every single level works out like this, because nobody wants to repeat a stage thanks to one random misplaced frog. Life is hunky dory while the health is topped off, and everything slows to a depressing crawl when hearts are a scarce resource. A game plainly made for running is no fun when you’re creeping along at Bookworm’s pace.

Rings are the thing, and their only natural enemies are…

Instant Kill Traps are the Worst

Let’s be clear here: there is a difference between an “instant kill hazard” and an “instant kill trap”. On one hand, you have something like a pit. You see the pit, you know that the pit is going to kill you if you fall in there, and, thus, you do everything to navigate your digital avatar around/over said pit. That is a hazard, and, while it means instant death regardless of health/rings, it’s a clear and present threat, and the challenge is in discovering how to overcome this problem. An instant kill trap, meanwhile, is the inevitable result of going fast in an area where there are A. pits B. spikes, or, my personal favorite C. things that make you go squish. This is horrible, because it punishes the player for doing the one thing that feels fun in these games (gotta go ____).

Sonic Mania is wonderful about this, because it almost never deliberately routes a fun, spring powered bit of blast processing right into an immediate death (I say “deliberately” because there are more than a few squishy deaths that seem rather… accidental). This is in sharp contrast to every other 2-D Sonic game for the last twenty years. Sonic Rush decided to stick a bottomless pit every seven steps, and Sonic Rivals was far too fond of vast chasms of gaping death. The Advance series mitigated this somewhat with multiple paths, and remembering to always “stay up” was a route to redemption. But honorary bad Sonic game Buster’s Hidden Treasure sticks to only one route, and it’s one fraught with instant death. The second “world” starts with a drop that seems survivable… until you watch helplessly as Buster is crushed by an insurmountable slab of moving granite. Whoops, sorry you didn’t intuitively know this was an instant death trap! Please try again!

And while we’re talking about instant death nonsense…

Never have a “chase” boss

It’s easy to see the confusion here: you want a villain that compliments the hero’s powerset. Batman needs a villain he can outwit. Goku needs a villain he can outpunch. And, when you’ve got a hero that has a power that can be described as “I like to run”, then you need a villain that can be outrun. This stands to reason, and, conceptually, makes a lot more sense than how Sonic, the fastest furball on two legs, defeats all his opponents by bouncing off of ‘em like some manner of plumber.

However, with the possible exception of racing games, “chase” bosses and challenges are terrible. This is because a chase is basically a race, and there are only so many ways you can make a race consistently entertaining/interesting. Too much of a gulf between first and second place? Boring. Both racers aren’t even on the same screen? Boring. There are hazards on the track, but the racers are ignoring them? Totally boring. So, naturally, most chase bosses spice things up with rubber band AI, impossible-to-predict traps, and our old friend instant death loss conditions. It doesn’t end well.

What’s the one part of Sonic Mania that everyone is complaining about? The chase/race against Mecha Sonic. Same for Sonic Generations and its ridiculous “rival” races. Same for Buster’s Treasure Hunt and the final race against Elmyra. None of this is fun, and, while it is thematically appropriate, none of it is any better than the average “bop a boss” playstyle. There might not be much reason for Sonic or Buster to have a damaging hop attack, but it sure does beat another Turbo Tunnel wannabe.

Nobody likes Spelling Errors

Look, this is really simple, it’s spelled “You’re”…

And who knows where this whole “Eggman” thing came from, but it’s spelled “Robotnik”. Is it that hard to get the little things right?

And I guess that’s the moral here. Anyone can make a Sonic-alike game, but the little details are what is most important. If you don’t cross your t’s and dot your bottomless pits, you’re going to have a bad time. Making a good Sonic game isn’t impossible, you just have to follow a few rules. Get through that, and the good stuff will go fast.

FGC #324 Tiny Toon Adventures: Buster’s Hidden Treasure

System: Sega Genesis. Again, this game is entirely different from Tiny Toon Adventures on other consoles of the time.

Number of players: Could have wedged Babs Bunny (no relation) in there as a second player, but no, it’s one player.

Speaking of which: This is another game based on a kid’s property where the entire female cast gets sidelined for no good reason. Babs, Shirley, and Fifi are all kidnapped during the opening narration, and, while the boys are fought as (mind controlled) bosses, the female cast is stuck bound and gagged for the entirety of the adventure. Lame! I guess this means the only girl that appears during actual gameplay is Elmyra. What a pain.

Favorite Boss: Gene Splicer (who appeared in like two episodes of Tiny Toons, but somehow every videogame port) is technically 90% of the bosses in this game, but he’s usually joined by a brainwashed toon. As per videogame adaptation tradition, Dizzy Devil is the first and probably best boss. The rest of them are… remarkably boring. Hampton Pig attacks with a vacuum cleaner? Who thought that was a good idea?

Other problems: The final world has one of those areas where magical doors might send you to the next area or back to the beginning of the stage. This isn’t really a Sonic problem, but I feel I should note that the platformer teleporter maze is one of the worst things ever.

Did you know? Little Sneezer is one of the assist characters in Buster’s Hidden Treasure. Many people believe Sneezer is the protégé of Speedy Gonzales, but, no, he’s actually supposed to be a match for another obscure Looney Tunes character, Sniffles. Speedy Gonzales actually matches up to Lightning Rodriguez, a character that doesn’t really exist.

Would I play again: This is my least favorite Tiny Toons title. Yes, that includes that one Mario Paint wannabe game. So that’s a no.

What’s next? Random ROB has chosen… Wizards and Warriors 3 for a live stream tonight! Be back here around nine or so for a live play through of one of the worst games of my childhood. Please look forward to it!

Road Runner, for a NES game, isn’t all that horrible to play. You’re The Road Runner, and Wile E. Coyote is on the hunt. Your only ability, besides your incredible (not that incredible) speed, is a quick, short jump, but that’s pretty much par for the course for old NES games. There’s four levels of increasing difficulty, and then stage five starts the loop again, but with more obstacles (like landmines) to hamper the poor bird’s progress. Again, this is on the same system as Donkey Kong, so I’m just happy when a game is four repeating, scrolling levels, and not just four screens. There’s even a rough “continue” feature that allows you to skip past completed levels by taking a “shortcut” available in the opening stage. I’m not certain why this isn’t just an option on the Game Over screen, but, hey means you don’t have to play the first (fairly boring) level over and over again.

But a dark secret sleeps in the Road Runner cartridge.

Actually, speaking of the cartridge, no, I’m not referring to the fact that Road Runner is a Tengen “black” release. For those of you that are unaware, Tengen was a front for Atari, aka the company that almost completely destroyed all of video gaming forever and ever. Atari/Tengen was not a big fan of Nintendo’s “we approve all the games, and you’re only allowed to make… let’s arbitrarily say… five games” policy, so, likely with the cartridge-making knowledge that gave us Atari E.T. and Pac-Man, Tengen took their crayons and made their own damn NES games. As a result, there are a number of Tengen NES games floating around that, at first glance, appear to be bootlegs. They’re real, but they don’t have the Nintendo Seal of Quality, and the cartridge is black, oddly shaped, and kinda looks upside-down. That really should be warning enough.

So, technically, the game is a betrayal of Nintendo… but who cares? In a way, you could see Tengen as the plucky freedom fighters battling against the totalitarian Nintendo. Rebellious copies of Tetris and Road Runner leading the vanguard against a corrupt empire. And regarding the weirdo cartridge, if I’ve learned anything from Saturday Morning Cartoons, it’s that it’s not what’s on the outside that counts, but what’s on the inside. So what’s on the inside of Road Runner?

Pure, focused treachery.

Road Runner is a video game protagonist, so, while he can only run and jump, one might expect that there is something else available to the beleaguered bird. Super Mario had his fire flowers, Sonic has his shields, and even Jumpman got loaned a hammer every once in a while. Run and jump is just fine, but there should be just a little bit more, something that turns the tables every once in a while and offers a miniscule change in pace. It could be timed, it could be hit-based, but a basic power-up is just the kind of thing a video game hero needs when facing down an unstoppable enemy.

You, while playing Road Runner, might get excited when you see a rocket laying on the ground. “Oh, cool, a speed-up power-up. I bet that will make this game more fun!” So you navigate Road Runner over that rocket and… nothing happens. Nada, zip, zilch. Not a thing, and Wile E. Coyote is still bearing down on you, so RR runs off… and Wile E. grabs the rocket. Wile E. Coyote is now chasing Road Runner atop an Acme Brand Rocket, and, as one may expect, it makes him harder to avoid than ever. Slowly, it dawns on you what just happened…

Road Runner for NES has power-ups, yes, but you can’t use them. Power-ups, in this game, are only for the villain.

It only gets worse from there, of course. The rocket gives way to spring shoes and a personal helicopter (complete with bombs) that Wile E. can abuse with impunity while Road Runner is stuck on terra firma, dodging every last deluge. Yes, these power-ups eventually “detonate” and temporarily impede the coyote, but that set-back only lasts a second, and then the chase resumes. It may be true to the origin series, yes, but, is it any fun? Not so much.

And what is available to the Road Runner only makes the bird weaker. Bird seed is scattered about the levels, and you may think that this seed increases Road Runner’s strength, speed, or stamina in some fashion, but, nope, it’s pretty much the opposite. You must collect the bird seed, because if you do not, you will eventually run out of energy, and then you’re coyote supper. This is an old school NES game, so there’s no backtracking. The minute a pile of bird seed is scrolled off the stage, the game logs it, and if you miss five piles of seed, then you may as well just hop in the frying pan, it’s time for Road Runner fricassee. Yes, this means that a screen full of birdseed is not something to be celebrated, but a threat: grab all that seed, fragile, flightless bird, or else you’ll be well done.

The writing on the wall quickly becomes clear: the chase is endless, you’re always the victim, and your pursuer can only grow stronger. It is looping games in a sadistic nutshell: you will fail, because you are only growing more tired, and the very embodiment of your death, the coyote that is Thanatos, only grows stronger. There is no escape. You will run, and then you will fail.

Road Runner is a betrayal of everything the NES stood for. It may initially be fun, but this is not the adventure of an elven hero that will eventually be able to sling shining arrows at pig demons. This is no story of a pink puff ball that will grow to slay eldritch horrors. This is far from a kingdom with a tiny Italian fellow that eventually can go fireball for fireball with a gigantic turtle monster. This is the story of a road runner: a weak, succulent bird that is only growing feebler with every button press.

Road Runner, and you, will die. It’s just a matter of time.

Thanks, entropy. Thanks, Tengen.

Maybe it’s okay to judge a cartridge by its cover once in a while.

FGC #89 Road Runner

System: NES for this review, but there was also an arcade version, and a Commodore 64 copy that I very distinctly remember playing in grade school. Looks like there was also (of course) an Atari version, and I cannot even fathom how bad that had to be.

Number of Players: One doomed road runner.

Salt in the wound: Every stage ends with a “bonus tally” for things you may or may not have done during the level. Given most of the bonuses are for being absolutely perfect, like never missing any bird seed or completely avoiding Mr. Coyote, most of the time, you’re not going to receive a bonus, and you’ll just be reminded of how many times you failed. Thanks, again, Tengen!

Might as well Jump: Road Runner’s jump is one of the saddest ups outside of Captain Toad. It’s not so bad initially, but the game eventually asks you to vault cliff faces and landmines, and, unless you’re some kind of Road Runner expert, you’re going to have one dead bird on your hands. The fact that you receive bonuses for actually clearing those mines is not an excuse to detonate a beloved Looney Tune.

Did you know? Before he was known as Wile E. Coyote, the unrelenting beast was identified as Don Coyote, obviously a play on Don Quixote. As much as I love a good name pun (and the fine middle initial that is “E”), Don Coyote makes so much more sense. I mean, come on, in everything but this video game, he is eternally chasing a bird that he is destined to never catch, essentially, tilting at windmills for perpetuity. We missed a great literary reference thanks to a century-old mistake.

Would I play again: Most certainly not. Nowadays, this kind of game would be barely valued at over a dollar on the app store, primarily because it’s so limited in scope. And that’s even before you get into the fact that the game seems to hate the player. And it looks terrible. And it ran over my dog (okay, that might not be true).

What’s next? Random ROB has chosen… Dance Dance Revolution: Konamix for the Playstation. Have you ever been happy just to hear your song? Well, guess this will be one day where I try to tell my point of view. Please look forward to it!

Right from the get-go, MK was a strange mix of realistic graphics and over the top gore, famously featuring a masked ninja effortlessly plucking the head and spinal column from a blonde in gym wear. Somehow, seven random fighters (“A Japanese god and… how about an Australian cyborg? Do we have one of those yet?”) with approximately three special moves apiece and barely any variation in “normal” moves combined to form a Voltron of unstoppable arcade juggernautery. I almost feel bad for the makers of Street Fighter II, who must have put hours of effort into something as silly as every last fighter having an “electric x-ray” animation in response to one character’s special move, and then watched as Mortal Kombat flew to the top of the pack based exclusively on its ability to just tear your heart out.

Oh, and Goro. Goro was always pretty cool.

Mortal Kombat quickly begat Mortal Kombat 2, which was a typical video game sequel: more of the same, with maybe a few bits of “silly” tossed in to offset the ultra-violence. Don’t worry, moms, we’re all in on the joke here! Your kids can’t turn into dragons, right? See, it’s all whimsical, loony tunes violence. Please ignore that fellow with the hat bisecting that man with the swords in his arms.

Speaking of Looney Tunes, this is about where the insane mythology creep started, as Mortal Kombat was no longer a martial arts tournament hosted by an ancient master, oh no, this was all a plot by the ruler of another dimension that got all of its fashion tips from Mad Max. And that green ninja hiding in the first game? He’s a member of an ancient lizard race and secretly fighting for oh man I cannot finish this sentence.

Can’t we just have a ludicrous four armed dragon man without having to explain his entire breed’s history?

And then came Mortal Kombat 3, where we learned the four armed dragon men had a long standing rivalry with the fanatical horsey man with the metal tail.

Mortal Kombat Trilogy is appropriately named, as it is the third version of the third game in the Mortal Kombat series. Featuring the largest cast Mortal Kombat would ever see until Mortal Kombat Armageddon (effectively Mortal Kombat Trilogy 2), you’ve got a lot of choices for pummeling in MKT, from She-Goro to She-Kahn or even She-Reptile (note that She-Sub-Zero would not be introduced until Mortal Kombat 5, and we’d have to wait until MK6 for She-Kano). There’s even some male characters, like Yellow Ninja, Blue Ninja, Prince Reference, Red Ninja, and two versions of Gray Ninja! How do those boys at Midway come up with this stuff!?

Secret shame? I might be a little harsh here with a series that is, at its core, just an excuse for roundhouses and uppercuts, but the sad truth is that I eat this stuff up with a spoon. I have always been a sucker for “comic book” universes, and Mortal Kombat is no exception. You can sell me one hundred issues of the Green Lantern Corps fighting the Yellow Lantern Corps and better watch out for the Red Lantern Corps, and you can keep me up all night on a wiki detailing the full exploits of the guy named after a temperature.

Let’s take a look at the theoretical Mortal Kombat mascot: Scorpion. For those of you that are unaware, Scorpion is literally part of Mortal Kombat’s current caretakers’ logo and has appeared in nearly every Mortal Kombat game and spin off (he missed the original version of Mortal Kombat 3, but swung back in with a vengeance in MK3 Ultimate and Trilogy). Scorpion is the face of Mortal Kombat, and no one has ever had any idea what to do with him.

In Mortal Kombat I, Scorpion was a simple skeleton man that wanted revenge on Sub-Zero, who had forcibly caused Scorpion to lose about eleven pounds during a previous, fatal encounter. Fire Ghost vs. Ice Man, a tale as old as time. Scorpion wound up scoring the only fatality to canonically take place during Mortal Kombat I, and introduced Sub-Zero to his own private burning man exhibition. Flame Wraith gets his revenge, end of story.

Mortal Kombat 2 sees Sub-Zero return, and Scorpion could swear he remembers killing that guy, but maybe his fireball missed? Or Smokey the Bear put him out? Who knows, Scorpion telejumps at the chance to double kill Sub-Zero. But Scorpion finds that, whoops, this Sub-Zero is actually the younger brother of the dead Sub-Zero, and cools his skull down to friendly fire levels. Young Sub-Zero seems to bear Scorpion no ill-will for his part in his brother’s flambé, which, really, we could all learn a lesson here about forgiving unstoppable murder skeletons.

Shao Kahn gets downright glutinous in Mortal Kombat 3, attempts to steal all the souls on Earth and in Hell, and accidentally releases Scorpion to roam the Earth and thrash ninja robots. Scorpion’s bio for the game claims he’s unaffiliated with any side, so he’s just running around, throwing spears at folks because it seems like something to do. Suppose it beats Hell.

Scorpion remembers nothing and goes right back to trying to kill Sub-Zero in Mortal Kombat 4. Scorpion completely flakes on not only having already killed Sub-Zero, but also learning that Current Sub-Zero is not Dead Sub-Zero. Scorpion comes this close to committing murder for absolutely no reason, but pulls back when he learns that Quan Chi, the Shang Tsung of MK4 (… err… MK2 Shang Tsung), was actually responsible for his family’s death. Whoops! Scorpion is actually pretty good at this vengeance thing, so he drags Quan Chi to Hell… wait… we’re calling it the Nether Realm now.

In what seems to be one part Dante and one part Three Stooges, Scorpion continues to torture Quan Chi until the start of Mortal Kombat: Deadly Alliance. He just chases him around not-Hell, swinging his axe all over the place and presumably repeatedly shouting something about getting over there. Quan Chi eventually found a couple of oni (onis? It’s just one of those words you hope you never need to know the plural), was like, “Hey, you guys? That yellow ninja guy said yo’ mama so fat, when she sits around the third circle of Hell, she sits AROUND the third circle of Hell!” Quan Chi then scampered off and started the titular Deadly Alliance while Scorpion dealt with the dual oni, Bashy and Pigpen. According to canon, Scorpion didn’t even really participate in MK:DA, and was simply tossed into a soulnado (glossary: soulnado: a tornado of souls) which sent Scorpion off to the Realm of the Elder Gods, effectively MK’s Heaven.

The afterlife of the Mortal Kombat universe is peculiar and terrible.

The Elder Gods are basically DC’s Guardians of the Universe: know-it-alls from the dawn of time that somehow have never made a worthwhile decision within our generation. The Elder Gods take one look at Scorpion, avenging demon from Hell, and unanimously decide to elect Scorpion as their champion, successfully making him the champion of all of existence. I don’t need to add anything to that, do I? Flaming Vengeance Incarnate is the defender of all that has ever been? Gonna end poorly.

And it does! All of reality gets sucked down the toilet, and Lord Raiden reboots all of existence after making a brief stop over in the DC Universe. A new world is formed in Mortal Kombat 9, and… Scorpion is a vengeful wraith hell bent on liquefying Sub-Zero. Go with what you know, right?

Now we’re up to Mortal Kombat X, home of a very much alive Scorpion. How did that happen? I’d claim you should play the game and find out for yourself, but, spoilers, it’s because Cyber Sub-Zero was a hit in Mortal Kombat 9, and the writers needed a new “the same, but different!” iconic character. So, Scorpion, best known as “Ninja Ghost Rider” is now some Asian guy with inexplicable fire powers. Of course, if Cyber Sub-Zero is any indication, Scorps will be back to normal by next game, probably due to a flesh mangling accident with a paper shredder Sub-Zero was trying to repair or something, so let’s not get too used to the new status quo.

My point to all this nonsense? Mortal Kombat’s story is about as well plotted and forward thinking as your average DC comics plot (Hal Jordan: Hero, Out-of-Touch Old Man, Super Villain, Dead, Alive, Greatest Hero Ever, Renegade, Space Hobo). Mortal Kombat Trilogy is an early, lame effort to bring these characters together for one final showdown before beginning the truly terrible era of “games no one liked that introduce sixteen new characters a game that are all the same as the previous characters, but maybe with different hair” (MK: GNOLTI16NCAGTAATSATPCBMWDH). It is impossible to play this game today without seeing the insanity of the future stretching before it, and it’s retroactively ruined an experience that could just be a man with metal arms shooting missiles at Elvira.

Or maybe I’m just bitter because I’ve wasted so much valuable brain space on this series. Did you know Stryker was originally intended for Mortal Kombat I? See the original idea…

FGC #4 Mortal Kombat Trilogy

System: N64, Playstation

Number of Players: 2, really. 8 in a “tournament”, but good luck getting that going.

This Roster Looks Familiar: It is, give or take, exactly the same as the MK9 roster. Assuming Random ROB ever chooses that game, I’ve got a lovely post about reliving past glories all ready to go.

Admit it, you’ve played this and Killer Instinct Gold more hours than you’ve devoted to anything else in your life: Never!

PSX or N64: The N64 is lacking the ability to play as the bosses and unmasked Sub-Zero, and it lacks the PSX’s one-button fatality cheat that makes life so much better. On the other hand, the load times on the PSX edition are atrocious, particularly in a game where matches are over in fifteen seconds. So, good news, we’re all losers! Maybe the Saturn version was best, but I’m not buying this game again!

Did you know? The PSX version is the only MK game where you can play as a centaur without any kind of code. This should be an option in other games. I’m not talking about just other Mortal Kombat games, I mean every video game. Think about it. Princess Zelda is just chilling in Ganon’s clutches, and to her rescue is Link, brave Hylian Centaur of Lore. Wait. Nevermind, just googled that. Bad idea.

Would I play again? Exclusively for nostalgia purposes. The actual nuts and bolts of playing this game are improved upon in every conceivable way by Mortal Kombat 9. Assuming some centaur-related DLC was ever released for that game, we’d have absolutely no reason to turn on MKT again.